


Together as One

by Trident



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trident/pseuds/Trident
Summary: Megatron reflects on the human species, in relation to his army, past ideals, and poetry.
Kudos: 8





	Together as One

The sentient natives of Earth, Megatron thought, were rather insignificant creatures in the grand scheme of the universe. Their bodies were smaller than that of a symbiont minicon. Additionally, even by an organic’s standard, their fleshbag frames were so easily battered. It appeared to Megatron that their very bodies seemed destined to destroy them; their only purpose in living was to one orn die. Indeed, the average lifespan for most humans did not even reach a full vorn, and none had ever reached two. 

Their processor units, called brains, were similarly fragile and weak. They were unable to absorb mass amounts of information and easily understand it, nor could they retain what information they were able to understand over time.

Begrudgingly, however, Megatron could admit that they were creative little pests. In the short run of their existence, they had achieved so much with just sheer spite. Some whole planets filled with civilizations that had been around for millions of vorns even before Earth existed in their universe could not say the same. Given only a timeline of Earth's short history, most Golden Age scientists likely would have claimed that the natives could create a powerful galactic name for themselves. At the rate of speed Earthen technology was developing, they probably would have been vastly concerned.

Of course, knowing what he did, Megatron would find the proposal of such ludicrous at best. Just like the earthlings' bodies sought to destroy them, the humans were preoccupied in attempting to best and conquer each other, that they only squandered their potential. Cybertron, for example, had only two wars in its existence. First was The Quintesson Revolution, in which they gained freedom from their five-faced oppressors. The other was The Great War, which they were presently embroiled in. The remainder of its billions of vorns of existence had been in relative peace. Granted, corruption had become rampant, and the caste system had been unjust and sour. Yet, despite it all, trade flowed freely through the city-states, and foolish concepts, like the ultimate righteous religion, were never disputed. A mech could believe in what he believed in without fear and repercussion, even if others did not share the same beliefs.

The citizens of Cybertron had known that life went beyond themselves, beyond even their city-state. So long as they were divided, they were unstable and vulnerable to repossession. The natives of Earth appeared to have no such knowledge. It was thus shocking then, that they had not been conquered by another species then. Their planet was full of energy and riches, and being so new meant that Earth could easily be mastered and utilized. 

Although, perhaps that explained the human’s peculiar, self-destructing behavior. Who would want to rule over a population of sheer spiteful, war-like creatures? Not even he wanted to. Why even his own conquests on this pitiful planet were made with the energy resources in mind. The humans could go to waste for all he cared. Perhaps they acted like they did to protect themselves, in a twisted sense.

Megatron grunted, thinking better of that notion. The humans did not have the capacity to plan such an intricate plot, much less perform it. This unique brand of disorder, dissent, and derision was entirely their nature. Why Prime thought they were worth vouching for and protecting, the Deception Warlord did not know.

Alone in his office, Megatron allowed himself to sound out a short bark of laughter. Prime must be having a field day right now, with the Earthen officials that he consorted with. The country the Autobots resided in was in sheer strife and chaos. A “world power” and influencer, indeed. He did not envy Optimus in the slightest. He might even consider having his Decepticons raid some other part of the world out of pity for them. Surely the Prime and his troops would be more than relieved to be away. Megatron might even allow them to have a victory if he was feeling especially generous later.

With amusement, he could recall how Soundwave came to him with the report of the events. It was like reality TV, the Decepticon’s favorite thing to view, since _As The Kitchen Sinks_. To keep his restless troops satisfactorily enthralled, Megatron permitted the viewing of human media in the rec rooms, as it. Megatron could be strict, and neither breakable nor bendable on several other such matters, but the sake of morale was critical when it came to running an efficient army.

It was partially for that same sake of morale that he allowed Starscream to live, time after time after time again. The fliers got quite finicky when they felt that their command structure was being tampered with, outside of their consent. Without a steady, firm servo to keep them on their typical routine and schedule, they would run about like headless tinfoil turkeys. As Megatron knew from previous experience, his army operated poorly when his aerial and ground troops were out of sync. 

They had to remain unified as one front. Such absolute resolve, communication, and cooperation were essential to their ranks. Decepticon power was stronger when they presented an unbreakable wall, devoid of significant splinters and cracks on the exterior. The humans would benefit from learning such. 

Such philosophies reminded him of one of his earliest poems. Before _Towards Peace_ was even a glint in his ruby red optics. Back when a peaceful revolution was his priority and hope. He was innocently optimistic then, still in the mines, only knowing a minor portion of the true deep-seated corruption and discrimination and horrors that plagued his homeworld. Still, one day, he hoped his words would become a reality.

Megatron took a moment to lock his door and then mark his commlink status as: “busy; do not disturb.” Done with that, he opened up the secret compartment that he had personally installed in his desk. Inside the hidden partition was a sole, ancient-looking datapad from Cybertron’s Age of Wrath, a relic from the Quintesson Occupation. Megatron lifted the pad out, almost reverently, taking care to online it with only the gentlest of touches. He scrolled for a moment to find what he was looking for, his optics dimming as he settled down to read. 

_\-----_

_“Together As One”_

_A poem by: D-16 of the Kaonite Mines_

_Dedicated to: The people of Cybertron. May we rise together and reclaim our home._

_Coming together._

_We’ll assemble all from around.  
From the valley, to the bay.  
Above the rooftops, below the ground.  
In fields, in which we play._

_Coming together._

_We’ll stir up a chorusing cry,  
And until our voices reach the sky,  
On every note we’ll amplify._

_Coming together._

_We’ll embrace each other, until our goals are found.  
Never sitting, standing firm, we’ll unify._

_Coming together._

_Together as one._

_\-----_


End file.
